It was a dark and stormy night that England spent the last hours of his birthday. A horrendous birthday, he might add. His usually neat and tidy home was disheveled mess from the party earlier, which France had insisted on throwing and America had insisted on helping clean up. Neither had gone as planned.

"Ok, so I bought you a cake on the way back from the airport," said America as he held up the bag containing his findings, "because, you know, I figured I'd better bring something back with me. It's weird they would cancel my flight for the weather, but all the shops would still be open. Imagine that!"

"Yes, it's rather shocking," mumbled England over a half drained bottle of whiskey. America's smile held strong.

"I was going to keep it for myself, but it's not as if we have anything else to do until tomorrow morning. You want a slice?" America asked, not bothering to sit down or even get too close to the drunken Brit. He only had to be smacked upside the head once to learn to keep his distance when England was drinking, although he had to admit that he was much more reserved than usual.

"Sure, whatever," England said, causing the American to shoot an anxious look at him.

"Hey, Artie, are you alright?" he asked.

"Of course I'm bloody alright!" he snapped, "Just get me that goddamn piece of cake already."

"Jesus, alright." America shuffled into the kitchen and wracked around for a good five minutes before appearing again with a generous slice of vanilla cake with colorful frosting. A lit candle was stuck in the top. England rolled his eyes.

"I already blew out the candles on the first cake," he said.

"Yeah, but this is a different cake," answered America in a singsong voice. England scoffed and, just as America was about to sit down, England said,

"Hey, put the kettle on the stove while you're up." America scowled, but complied.

"You're lucky it's your birthday," the younger nation mumbled.

"Yeah, and you're lucky I was willing to let your sorry arse stay here for the night," England growled, and then added quietly, "Out of every person who came here tonight I'm stuck with him." He flicked at the rainbow icing on his cake, the flame burning close to his eyes. Something crashed in the kitchen, causing England to flinch.

"Sorry, 'bout that!" America called, and England pinched the bridge of his nose. Out of all his former colonies, it had to be the one that irritated him the most. Why couldn't Matthew have offered first to stay after the party and help clean up? He would have at least balanced Alfred's chaos and unpleasantness. When was the last time he sat down and had a nice chat with Mathew?

America peered around the corner again from the kitchen, "I forgot how to make this type of tea, but I found some instant coffee instead. It kind of tastes like shit, but you like that stuff, right?" then he paused and laughed, "Whoa that totally came out wrong. Hey, you haven't blown your candle out yet."

"No, I guess not," England said quietly, throwing a glare at Alfred, who ignored it and went back into the kitchen. His eyes fell on the pathetic candle and he scoffed, thinking that he might as well humor the boy. Arthur leaned over the waxy, misshapen candle so closely that the flame quivered from his breath, "I wish Alfred wasn't here," he whispered to the fire and promptly extinguished it in one blow. What he didn't notice was Alfred standing behind the door frame with the coffee cups in hand.

"Heeey, sorry about the tea, Artie," he said with a faltering smile and set one of the mugs of the disgusting concoction on the table in front of the drunk man. Alfred raised his own mug slightly in a toast and Arthur shrugged.

"Cheers," said England, barely lifting his mug off the table. But before either could bother to clink their drinks, America's hand shook in a violent spasm and the mug clattered against the wooden table and onto the floor. England stood in disgust and shook the brown liquid off of his sleeves. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"I-I don't know…" Alfred trailed off and he leaned onto the table with one hand and clutched his head, wincing, with the other, "What the hell," he muttered weakly and England, suddenly bothering to care, inched toward him.

"Alfred, are you ok?" he asked. America tried to smile, but the effort disappeared when he doubled over and his glasses slid off his nose. His eyes glazed over and his grip on the table slackened. England barely had time to reach forward and catch the man before he smacked into the carpeted floor, "Oh God, Alfred! Can you hear me?"

No response.

Arthur lowered the unconscious Nation to the ground and looked around in a hurried daze. This was not good. There was no reason for this to happen to Alfred of all countries. This was the type of thing that happened during a crisis. He wasn't being attacked again, was he?

A terrible, regretful thought struck England and he slowly turned to the uneaten cake on the table. In the icing were crudely drawn runes no living human would be able to read.

"Oh, bollocks."

Canada stared out the plane window and admired the beautiful sunset.

"Wasn't that a nice party, Kilimanjaro?" he asked. Kumajirou curled in his lap, glanced at him and then went back to sleep. The woman sitting next to Canada eyed the two and the Nation smiled awkwardly. "He usually answers back," he said, in which the woman turned completely away from him and went back to listening to her iPod or whatever she was doing. Canada sighed and leaned back in his seat. Suddenly he felt very drowsy.

Suddenly he felt very sick.

"E-excuse me?" he said to the flight attendant, or anyone who happened to notice he asked for help. No one turned around.

He gripped into the armrest as a cold sweat wracked his body and a sharp, throbbing pain shot through his head like a bullet. Not even the woman next to him turned around until he slumped forward and smacked his head on the seat in front of him.

Even then, no one bothered to check right away if he was alright. Perhaps they assumed he had fallen asleep in an awkward position.

I started this story so long ago that I don't even remember how I was going to end it lol. If anyone actually wants to read this then I'll more likely than not put forth a lot of time to writing and finishing this.